10:22 PM-1120PM
Mallory looked around, studying the various stores.
"What are you looking for, John Justin?" asked Mürgenstürm. "I thought we were going to the museum."
"First things first," said Mallory. "Where can I find a gun shop?"
"There's one on the next block," said Mürgenstürm. "But I thought you never carried a weapon."
"I was never threatened by a demon before," said Mallory, heading off in the direction the elf had indicated. "Will it be open on New Year's Eve?"
"Why not?" responded Mürgenstürm. "More people are shot on New Year's Eve than any other night of the year."
They reached the store in another minute, and Mallory turned to the elf. "I think one shopping binge a night is enough for Felina. Why don't you stay out here and make sure that she doesn't wander off?"
"Why bother?" asked Mürgenstürm. "She's obviously no longer any use to us as a tracker."
"Because I have a feeling that we're going to need all the help we can get."
"Even incompetent help?"
"You can't always choose," replied Mallory. "Find me someone competent and we'll talk about leaving her behind."
"You're the boss," said Mürgenstürm with a shrug.
"We'll get along fine as long as we all remember that," said Mallory, and entered the store alone.
There were a number of customers inspecting the various weapons. A trio of uniformed military men seemed to be comparing notes on rapid-action repeating rifles; a huge, bearded warrior dressed in furs and a metal skullcap was hefting a number of battle-axes; a chalk-white woman with long black hair and high, arching eyebrows was holding an ornate dagger, striking assorted dramatic poses in front of a mirror; another woman, complaining about her husband in a loud voice, kept sending a clerk back for larger and larger handguns; a Gnome of the Subway, looking apprehensively at the doorway every few seconds, was examining various types of ammunition; and perhaps a dozen other customers of varying sizes and species were simply browsing aimlessly.
Mallory stopped at a display case of pistols, then wandered over to a wall that held a number of tribal spears in small metal clamps. He continued browsing, discovering a number of weapons that made absolutely no sense to him. Finally he walked up to the main counter.
"May I help you, sir?" asked a slight, balding man with a drooping moustache.
"I hope so," replied Mallory. "What kind of gun will stop a leprechaun?"
"Leprechauns?" said the man with a pleased smile. "Ah, there's nothing quite like hunting leprechauns in the rain! How many of the little beggars do you plan to blow away, sir?"
"Just one."
The man nodded sympathetically. "They're getting harder to find every year. Not like the good old days, eh?"
"I guess not."
"How much of a sporting chance do you want to give him?"
"None," said Mallory.
"Quite right, sir," said the salesman, trying unsuccessfully to hide his disapproval. "I assume your license is in order?"
"License?"
"For slaughtering leprechauns," explained the salesman patiently.
"I didn't know I needed one."
"I'll bet you left it at home, sir."
"I don't have one."
"Certainly you do, sir," said the salesman persuasively. "If you didn't have one, you couldn't buy a gun to kill the little bastard with, could you?"
"I left it at home," said Mallory.
"You look like an honest man," said the salesman. "I see no reason why I shouldn't take your word for it." He reached beneath the counter and withdrew a small pistol. "Here's just the ticket, sir. Ten shots, one in the chamber and nine in the stock, accurate up to two hundred feet." He laid the pistol down on the counter and placed a box of ammunition next to it. "Will there be anything else?"
"Yes," said Mallory. "How do you kill a demon?"
"It all depends. We have a complete line of talismans and amulets." The salesman reached into another cabinet and withdrew a long crystal wand. "Or you could use this little baby here! Sweetest little weapon you've ever seen. Guaranteed to demolish every demon below the level of the Fifth Circle."
"I don't feel comfortable with magic," said Mallory. "What kind of gun will do the trick?"
"None. And I'll thank you not to refer to this as a magic wand, sir," said the salesman haughtily. "This wand works by strict scientific principles, just the same as our amulets and talismans: it refracts light to create invisibility, it ionizes the air around your antagonist and thereby eliminates his oxygen supply, it seeds clouds to create thunder and lightning, it—"
"All right," said Mallory. "I'll take it." He picked up the wand and examined it. "How do you make it work?"
"The spells are included with the instructions."
"Spells?"
"There are certain key words that trigger various responses from the microchip in the handle," explained the salesman. "The rest of it is just for dramatic effect."
"And this will definitely work against any demon I run across?" asked Mallory.
The salesman shook his head. "Only those below the Fifth Circle. What type of demon do you expect to be confronting?"
"I don't know. But if it's any help, he's called the Grundy."
"You want to kill the Grundy?" gasped the salesman.
"Only if it's necessary."
"Your name wouldn't be Mallory, would it?"
"It would."
The salesman grabbed the wand back. "Go away!"
"You don't have anything that will help me?"
"You're in the wrong place!" whimpered the salesman, crouching down and hiding behind the counter. "The only thing you need is a Bible."
"The Grundy's affected by Bibles?"
"No, but you might want to learn a quick prayer or two before he finds you."
"What do I owe you for the gun?" asked Mallory.
"One hundred seventy-five dollars."
"All I have are hundreds," said Mallory. "You're going to have to get up and make change."
"Just put a hundred on the counter and leave!"
Mallory, aware that everyone in the store was staring at him with expressions varying from shock to pity, picked up the pistol and the box of ammunition, put them in his pocket, and walked back into the street, where he found Mürgenstürm and Felina waiting for him.
"What now, John Justin?"
"Now we go to the museum." Mallory paused. "I don't suppose they'll have a stuffed leprechaun?"
"Certainly not!" said Mürgenstürm, morally outraged. "You might as well ask if they have a mounted elf on display!"
It took them fifteen minutes, via elephant and subway, to reach the museum, a huge and ancient structure of stone and steps and spires.
"The perfect example of Gothic Baptist architecture," commented Mürgenstürm admiringly as they approached the main entrance.
"I didn't know there were any examples of Gothic Baptist architecture," replied Mallory.
"There are here," said Mürgenstürm, ascending the broad stairs. When he reached the top, he went to a small door about fifty feet to the right of the main entrance and knocked vigorously.
"Hold your horses!" said a voice. "I'm coming!"
A moment later the door opened and an elderly man, his white hair thinning and uncombed, stuck his head out. "Oh, it's you again," he said when his eyes fell on the little green elf. "You know, Mürgenstürm, you've really got to do something about that libido of yours."
"My feelings precisely," echoed Mallory.
The old man stared at him for a moment, then made a face and turned back to Mürgenstürm. "Your tastes are getting more degenerate by the hour," he said.
"You misunderstand the situation," said Mürgenstürm.
"If I do, it's not without cause," said the old man.
"John Justin, I want you to meet my friend Jebediah," said the elf. "Jebediah, this is the world-famous detective, John Justin Mallory."
Jebediah squinted at Mallory and nodded. "World-famous, eh? Well, come on in—but leave the cat behind."
"You mean Felina?" asked Mürgenstürm.
"You see any other cats?" asked Jebediah.
"But she's not a cat. She's one of the cat-people."
"Same thing," said Jebediah with a shrug. "She'll upset the exhibits."
"I thought this was a museum," interjected Mallory.
"It is."
"Aren't the exhibits all dead?"
"Of course."
"Then how can she upset them?" persisted the detective.
"Look," said Jebediah. "It's cold and it's raining, and I've got no intention of standing here in the doorway answering stupid questions. If you want to come in, leave her outside."
Mallory turned to Felina. "Wait here," he instructed her. "We'll only be a few minutes."
She made no reply, but merely squatted down on her haunches, staring at some fixed point in space that only she could see. In the dim light it seemed to Mallory that her pupils had expanded to entirely cover her irises. He reached out to give her a reassuring pat on the shoulder, which she avoided without seeming to move, and finally he shrugged and followed Jebediah and Mürgenstürm into the interior of the museum.
"Impressive, isn't it?" asked the elf.
Mallory looked around the huge, marble-floored central hall. The arched ceiling was a good forty feet high, and a pair of reconstructed pterodactyls seemed to be hovering over him, suspended by nearly invisible support wires. Dominating the hall was the skeleton of an enormous tyrannosaur, its jaws filled with row upon row of long, jagged teeth.
"Mean-looking son of a bitch," he commented.
"Didn't there used to be an elephant here?" asked Mürgenstürm, indicating the area where the dinosaur stood ready to pounce. "A big one, with huge tusks?"
Jebediah nodded. "We've still got him, but he's with the rest of the African animals now. The taxi drivers started objecting to him, so we brought old Rex up here from the basement." The old man paused to brush a piece of lint from his dark blue uniform. "Just as well. He was getting lonely down there; now at least he's got the birds to keep him company."
"Birds?" repeated Mallory.
"The pterodactyls," explained Jebediah. He turned to Mürgenstürm. "Well, if you're not here for an affair of the heart, just what is it that you want?"
"I need some information," said Mallory.
Jebediah sighed. "I didn't figure you were here just to keep a lonely old man company on New Year's Eve."
"Well, that, too," said Mürgenstürm quickly. "But mainly, we have to learn something about unicorns."
"So they stole the unicorn from you, did they?" asked Jebediah, amused. "I knew they would."
"That's none of your business!" snapped Mürgenstürm.
Jebediah turned to Mallory. "I keep on telling him. 'Mürgenstürm, you ugly little wart,' I say, 'you can't keep letting your gonads rule your mind. Mürgenstürm,' I say, 'this museum's filled with exhibits that became extinct because they never learned to control their baser passions. Mürgenstürm,' I say, 'I can understand an occasional roll in the hay, but you're the most compulsive little pipsqueak I've ever—' "
"That will be quite enough, thank you!" snapped the elf.
"He hired you to find it?" asked Jebediah, ignoring Mürgenstürm's furious gaze.
Mallory nodded.
"Well, Mr. Mallory, I can guarantee it's not here."
"I'm sure it isn't," said Mallory. "But I've never even seen a unicorn. Mürgenstürm tells me you've got one on display."
Jebediah checked his wristwatch. "Can you be through in fifteen minutes?" he asked.
"I don't see why not."
"You're sure?" insisted Jebediah.
"How the hell long can it take to look at a stuffed unicorn?"
"Okay," said Jebediah, heading off toward one of the dozen corridors that fed into the central hall. "Follow me."
Mallory and Mürgenstürm entered the corridor.
To the left was a diorama featuring a rhinoceros, three zebras, a pair of wildebeest, and a family of four giraffes at a savannah water hole. On the right was a leopard, poised to spring out of its tree onto an unsuspecting impala. The corridor continued for some forty yards and held at least a dozen more dioramas.
Mallory turned back and studied the leopard for a moment. He could see its muscles bunched as it prepared to jump, almost rippling under its dead skin. Its eyes seemed to glow with awareness, and he half-expected to see its tail twitch just before it launched its attack.
"We have to hurry, Mr. Mallory," said Jebediah, taking a few steps back in the detective's direction.
Mallory immediately began walking again. "They're very lifelike," he said when he had caught up with the old man.
"That they are," agreed Jebediah as they passed a gorilla family and skirted around the bull elephant that had been moved from the central hall.
"How much farther?" asked Mürgenstürm, running on his short, stumpy legs to keep up with the two men.
"Just past the bongo and the okapi," replied Jebediah. "You look all worn out." He grinned. "They say sex does that to the wind."
"I haven't had any sex for hours," panted Mürgenstürm. "Obviously, it's a lack of sex that does it."
"Obviously," said Mallory caustically.
The corridor branched to the left, and a moment later, after passing some large antelope, they entered a small room that housed a trio of creatures in plain glass cases. To the right was a banshee, to the left a satyr complete with its musical pipe, and directly in front of them was a large white unicorn. Its prominent brown eyes looked straight ahead, the horn on its forehead reminded Mallory of a twisted candy stick, its body was sleeker than most herbivores, and its tail almost touched the ground. It wasn't exactly horselike—a zebra, or even the extinct quagga, resembled a horse far more—but he couldn't figure out what else to compare it with, for it resembled all other animals even less.
He walked around the case, wondering why he was bothering, since, having seen a unicorn, he knew he could never mistake it for anything else.
Finally he came to a placard that offered him some minimal information:
NORTH AMERICAN UNICORN
Unicorns occur on all continents and islands except Antarctica, though they are believed to be virtually extinct in Peru, Tibet, and the Italian Riviera.
Unicorns are usually herbivorous, although they have been known to eat everything from small rodents to parking meters. They are primarily nocturnal, and tend to congregate at right angles to where you are looking at the moment.
The North American Unicorn—unicornis n. americanus—differs from all other members of the unicorn family in that it lives in North America.
This specimen was shot by Col. W. Carruthers during a safari to the interior of Sioux City, Iowa.
"Seen enough?" asked Jebediah.
"In a minute," said Mallory, staring at the unicorn once again.
"Make it quick."
Mallory turned to Mürgenstürm. "Does Larkspur look like this?"
The elf nodded. "They could be twins."
"I need to know more about his habits," said Mallory. "The placard wasn't very helpful."
"Time's up," announced Jebediah. "Let's go."
"Gesundheit," said Mürgenstürm.
"I didn't sneeze," said the old man.
"Well, somebody did," replied the elf.
"Not me," said Mallory.
"I know what I heard," said Mürgenstürm stubbornly. "Somebody went—"
A guttural coughing sound came to their ears.
"Just like that," concluded the elf uneasily.
"Damn!" snapped Jebediah. "I told you to hurry!"
Suddenly Mallory could smell the acrid scent of animals.
"What the hell's going on?" he demanded.
"Shhhh!" whispered Jebediah, holding his finger to his lips.
He waited for a moment, then nodded his head and stepped into the corridor through which they had come.
"Quickly now!" whispered the old man.
Mallory and Mürgenstürm fell into step behind him and they proceeded down the corridor, past the okapi and bongo displays.
"Just a minute!" said Mallory, stopping short as they passed a diorama depicting two lions at a kill.
"What is it?" asked Mürgenstürm, bumping into him.
"I could swear one of those lions just looked up," said the detective. He stared at it again, then shrugged. "Over-active imagination," he announced at last.
"Hurry!" whispered Jebediah urgently.
Mallory began walking again, and soon came to the junction of corridors where the bull elephant stood. It was a huge animal, fully twelve feet at the shoulder, and its sudden appearance, with ears spread wide and trunk extended toward him, startled the detective for a moment. He quickly recovered his composure and walked around the elephant to where Jebediah was standing by the entrance to another corridor.
"Hold on," said Mallory after they had walked about twenty-five feet. "Where's Mürgenstürm?"
"I thought he was right behind you," said Jebediah. Mallory walked back to the end of the corridor. "Damn it, Mürgenstürm!" he said. "What the hell's keeping—" He choked off the last word of the sentence as he found himself staring into the bloodshot little eyes of the elephant, which stood facing him, ears spread, trunk extended.
"Right here," said Mürgenstürm, walking up to him. "I went into the wrong corridor." The elf looked up at Mallory. "What's the matter, John Justin? You look like you've just seen a ghost."
"He was facing the other direction not twenty seconds ago," said Mallory, still looking at the elephant.
"You must have gotten all turned around," said Mürgenstürm. "Stuffed animals don't move."
Suddenly they heard an ear-splitting roar that echoed through the empty, drafty corridors. "Do they roar?" asked Mallory. "Not to my knowledge," said the elf uneasily. "Let's get the hell out of here," said Mallory urgently, walking briskly to the spot where he had left Jebediah. There was no trace of the old man.
"Maybe you're in the wrong corridor," suggested Mürgenstürm.
"This is where I left him," said Mallory firmly.
"Then maybe he moved."
"We'll see," said Mallory, retracing his steps. When they came to the elephant they gave it a wide berth and entered a new corridor just as a bird screeched behind them. They walked about fifty feet into it, then stopped.
"He's not here," said Mallory.
"What do we do now?" asked Mürgenstürm nervously.
"We go back the way we came."
"I'm lost," admitted the elf.
"We'll go back to the elephant, and it'll be the second corridor on the left."
"Wait!" exclaimed Mürgenstürm suddenly.
"What is it?"
"I think I heard him."
"I didn't hear anything."
"This way," said the elf, continuing down the corridor. "Jebediah!" he yelled. There was no response.
"You're wrong," said Mallory.
"Well, I heard something," said Mürgenstürm nervously.
"I didn't," repeated Mallory.
"It sounded like footsteps."
They had been walking as they talked, and now they found themselves just a few steps from a branch in the corridor.
"Which way did they seem to be coming from?" asked Mallory.
"From the right, I think," replied Mürgenstürm.
Mallory stepped into the junction of the corridors, turned to his right—
And found himself face to face with a growling, snarling bull gorilla.
"Jesus!" he muttered. Both man and gorilla remained motionless for an instant. Then Mallory turned on his heel and raced back down the corridor, practically flattening Mürgenstürm in the process. The gorilla screamed, pounded his chest with his hairy hands, and then began lumbering leisurely after them.
Mallory came to the elephant with Mürgenstürm just a step behind him and raced to his right. As he entered the nearest corridor, he heard shrill, angry trumpeting behind him. He ran halfway down the corridor, then chanced a quick look behind him.
"We're safe!" he panted to the elf. "He can't get through. The corridor's too narrow for him."
"Not for him, though," whimpered Mürgenstürm, pointing in the opposite direction, where a black-maned lion was slinking toward them, his belly skimming the marble floor.
Somewhere a public address system clicked on, and the static momentarily frightened the lion, which leaped into an adjoining corridor.
"Assuming that you're still alive, I suppose you'd like an explanation," said Jebediah's voice.
"It would be nice," muttered Mallory under his breath.
"I didn't mean to desert you, Mr. Mallory, but I simply couldn't wait any longer. You see, the animals in this museum were stuffed and mounted by Akim Ramblatt."
"Who the hell is Akim Ramblatt?" whispered Mürgenstürm.
"You're probably wondering who the hell Ramblatt was," said the old man's voice. "The answer to that is that he was the best taxidermist who ever practiced the art. By the time he went to work for us, he was already known as the Master Builder." There was a brief pause. "He makes his animals appear so lifelike that they simply don't know they're dead. They sit up there in their glass cases all day thinking about it, and along about eleven each night they can't see any reason why they shouldn't stretch their legs and walk around a bit.''
The next line was drowned out by a scream from some unidentified beast.
"Anyway, they're usually only active for an hour or two before they remember that they're not really alive. Ramblatt may have been the Master Builder, but he was not, after all, God." Jebediah chuckled. "So, assuming that you can hear my voice, all you have to do is hide in a safe place for the next couple of hours and you'll be just fine. The one time I got caught out of the office, I dove into the water hole and breathed through a hollow tube—but of course, that was before Ramblatt added the rhino. Not that he's vicious—at least as rhinos go—but he does love his wallow, and it's a very small water hole." He sighed. "Oh, well, you'll figure something out. And now, if you'll excuse me, it's time for my nap. If you manage to live through this experience, stop by my office; I'll have some coffee on the stove." Another pause. "I really can't think of any other advice for you. Ten-four."
The public address system went dead.
"How long has it been since eleven o'clock?" asked Mürgenstürm weakly.
Mallory checked his watch. "Seven minutes."
"That's all?"
The detective-nodded, as the sound of moving bodies came to their ears.
"We can't stay here," said Mallory. "We're right in the middle of the African exhibit."
The rustling sounds of movement became louder.
"What's on the second floor?" asked Mallory.
Mürgenstürm shrugged. "Just bones and fossils, I think."
"It can't be any more dangerous than here," concluded the detective. "Let's find a staircase."
He headed off to his left, then froze as the gorilla lumbered into sight.
"The other way! Quick!"
They returned to the junction where the elephant had been mounted. At the moment it was inspecting the entrance to one of the other corridors, and Mallory and Mürgenstürm, backs to the wall, began edging gingerly around the area, looking for a sign that might point either to a staircase or an exit.
Suddenly the elephant wheeled around, flattened its ears, and charged toward them without a sound. Mürgenstürm backed into a corridor while Mallory looked desperately for an escape route. At the last instant he dove to the floor, slid beneath the startled pachyderm's outstretched trunk, regained his feet, and hurled himself into a new corridor. The elephant followed him instantly, and with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Mallory realized that he had chosen the one corridor through which it could move with ease.
He took a hard right at the next juncture, barely avoiding the elephant's trunk, and skidded to a halt as he found himself no more than twenty feet away from a rhinoceros that was grunting and pawing at the marble tiles with a forefoot.
He heard the elephant scream once, and then the building seemed to shake as it bore down upon him with thunderous, bone-crunching steps. He took a quick look back, found his entire field of vision filled by elephant, and dove into the diorama from which the rhinoceros had emerged.
He expected to be lifted high above the floor, wrapped in the elephant's trunk, and hurled against a wall, or perhaps impaled on its long miscolored tusks—but although the hideous sounds of thudding bodies came to his ears, he was still alive and intact half a minute later, when he finally forced himself to open a terrified eye.
The rhino, a gaping wound on its left shoulder, was racing down the corridor, pursued by the enraged elephant.
Mallory considered remaining where he was, hidden by weeds and grasses, then remembered that sooner or later the rhino would return to its diorama, probably little the worse—but considerably the more enraged—for wear.
Cautiously the detective got to his feet, crawled to the edge of the diorama, and stuck his head out into the corridor. It was empty, and he immediately began walking rapidly in the opposite direction from the one the elephant and the rhino had taken. He took two more turns, heard the chattering of monkeys, decided that their shrieks would warn him of any approaching predators, and entered their corridor. Their screaming and chattering increased, and a number of them threw fruits and nuts at him, but none left their dioramas, and finally he saw a small stairway at the end of the corridor. He broke into a trot, and had almost reached it when he found the bull gorilla blocking his way. Mallory suddenly remembered the pistol he had purchased. He reached into his robe, pulled it out, and pumped four quick shots into the gorilla's chest.
"You can't kill something that's already dead," mumbled the gorilla in harsh, guttural tones.
Mallory blinked rapidly.
"I warned you not to come to the museum," continued the gorilla, glaring balefully at the detective.
"Are you the Grundy?" asked Mallory.
"For the moment," growled the gorilla, approaching him slowly. "And a moment is all you have remaining, John Justin Mallory!"
Mallory looked around desperately as he backed away. Finally his gaze fell on some dry weeds in one of the dioramas. He grabbed them, set fire to them with his pocket lighter, and thrust them at the gorilla's harsh, dry hair.
The gorilla instantly burst into flame. The cold light of the Grundy's intelligence left its eyes and, screaming, it raced away down the corridor. Mallory watched it for a moment, then quickly walked the rest of the way to the staircase and began climbing up to the second floor—and collided with Mürgenstürm, who was racing down the stairs.
"Where the hell were you?" demanded the little elf, his face flushed from exertion.
"Downstairs," said Mallory. "Where the hell do you think I was?"
"How do I know? One minute you were there and the next minute I was all alone!" Mürgenstürm tried unsuccessfully to push him aside. "Let me by!"
"You're going the wrong way."
"You go your way and I'll go mine!" said the elf desperately.
"But there's nothing upstairs!" protested Mallory. "All the stuffed animals are on the first floor!"
"You may know it, and I may know it, but try telling him!"
"Try telling who?" demanded Mallory.
"Him!" whimpered Mürgenstürm, pointing a trembling finger toward the top of the stairs.
"Wait here," said Mallory, cautiously climbing the remainder of the stairs.
When he reached the doorway to the second floor he was confronted by a huge green panel that completely blocked his way. As he tried to figure out what it was, he became uncomfortably aware of the fact that it was moving, and a moment later he realized that it was the tail of a brontosaur.
"How can that be, John Justin?" whispered Mürgenstürm, who had followed him up. "Nobody's ever stuffed and mounted a dinosaur. They're just skeletons!"
"It's the Grundy's work," said Mallory grimly.
"The Grundy stuffs dinosaurs?" asked Mürgenstürm, bewildered.
Mallory nodded. "He also makes mistakes."
"He hasn't made any that I'm aware of," said Mürgenstürm devoutly.
"He made one a couple of minutes ago," said the detective. "And now he's made another one. This damned thing is a vegetarian; it won't bother us."
"Elephants are vegetarians too," Mürgenstürm reminded him.
"You've got a point," admitted Mallory, his sense of triumph evaporating. "Well, we sure as hell can't stay here."
"Why not?" asked the elf.
"Take a look," said Mallory, pointing to the foot of the stairs, where a leopard was slowly climbing up toward them. When it saw that its prey was aware of its presence it looked full into the detective's eyes and snarled.
"Shoot him!" cried the elf, suddenly noticing the pistol in Mallory's hand.
"It wouldn't do any good. He's already dead." Mürgenstürm raced ahead of the detective and bolted into the enormous hall. Mallory followed him, securing the door behind them.
The brontosaur was at the far end of the hall, some 200 feet away from them, casually inspecting its surroundings and looking for food.
"There aren't any other doors," said Mürgenstürm, "just this one and the main stairway—and what do you want to bet that Rex and his flying friends are waiting there for us?"
"How about elevators?" "I can't see any."
"Wonderful," muttered Mallory. Suddenly he turned to the little elf. "Can you stop time for them the way you did for the two hoods in my office?"
"That's the best idea you've had all night, John Justin!" replied Mürgenstürm. "A truly phenomenal notion. I knew I picked a good man!"
"Why not?" asked Mallory wearily.
"It only works with creatures who are aware of time to begin with," explained Mürgenstürm. "And obviously a dinosaur who is walking around in the twentieth century has only the haziest conception of the passage of time." "I don't suppose you'd care to try it anyway?"
"I already did."
"Have you got any other parlor tricks you can do?"
"Like what?"
"I don't know—levitation, teleportation, anything like that."
Mürgenstürm shook his head unhappily. "Stopping time is my piece de resistance." He paused. "And it only works for about five minutes anyway," he added apologetically.
Mallory made no reply, but stared intently at the brontosaur, which stood between them and the main staircase.
Mürgenstürm grabbed the detective's sleeve, shaking it. "Are you all right, John Justin?"
"Shut up!" snapped Mallory. "I'm thinking."
"About what?"
Mallory was silent for another moment. Then he looked down at the elf.
"Do you have to be in the same room with whomever you stop time for?"
"It helps."
"But it's not absolutely necessary?"
Suddenly Mürgenstürm turned a pale green. "Oh, no!" he said. "You can't be serious, John Justin!"
"Why not?"
"He'll kill me!"
"In case it's escaped your attention, he's trying to kill you already."
"But he's the Grundy!"
"He's the guy who's animating these animals. If you stop time for him, maybe they'll go back to sleep when he does."
"But he's got powers!"
"Do you want to find that damned unicorn before tomorrow morning or don't you?" demanded Mallory.
"He's too far away!"
"Try!"
"And he's stronger than I am."
"We don't need five minutes," said Mallory. "Sixty seconds will do. We'll ran right down the main stairway and out the front door."
"But—"
The brontosaur suddenly noticed them and began approaching.
"All right!" whimpered the elf.
"Well?" asked Mallory as the brontosaur drew nearer.
"I did it."
"It isn't working."
"I told you it wouldn't!" said Mürgenstürm, darting back into the stairwell.
And then, between one step and the next, the dinosaur froze.
"Mürgenstürm!" yelled Mallory.
"Don't hit me!" whined the elf. "It's not my fault!"
"It worked!" shouted Mallory. "Let's get the hell out of here!"
He raced across the hall to the head of the main staircase, slid down the long, curving banister, and ran to the front door.
"What's the matter?" asked Mürgenstürm, joining him a few seconds later.
"It's locked!"
"Of course it's locked."
"I thought it would be one of those doors that you could open from the inside!" Mallory looked around desperately. "Where's the door we came in through?"
"This way!" said Mürgenstürm, heading off at a run.
Mallory fell into step behind him, and suddenly heard a loud hissing noise.
"Faster!" he yelled. "Rex is waking up!"
The elf reached the door ten steps ahead of Mallory and hurled himself through it. Mallory dove after him, just as the talons of Rex's tiny forelegs ripped his pants from the knee to the ankle, and then the door slammed shut behind him.
"Made it!" wheezed Mürgenstürm, lying on his back and panting, completely oblivious to the freezing rain.
Mallory, bent over, hands on knees, was too busy catching his breath to answer immediately. Finally he rasped out, "That was too damned close!"
"We were lucky, John Justin," said the elf. "But it won't work again. He'll be ready for it the next time."
"He's some guy, this Grundy," said Mallory. "I keep expecting to look up and see some witch on a broomstick skywriting SURRENDER, DOROTHY!"
"Who's Dorothy?" asked Mürgenstürm.
"Never mind." He looked around. "By the way, where's Felina?"
"Right here," said a voice from above him.
Mallory looked up and saw the cat-girl perched on a ledge, right next to a window.
"What are you doing up there?"
"I was watching you with the dinosaur," she said. "You're not very fast."
"I hope you enjoyed yourself," said Mallory dryly.
She smiled and nodded.
"I suppose it never occurred to you to help us."
She continued smiling and shook her head slowly.
"I take it that your sympathies lie with the predator rather than the prey."
Her smile widened.
"What next, John Justin?" asked the elf. "We can't go back into the museum, and Larkspur's trail is cold."
"Next we find a phone book."
"And look under U?" suggested Mürgenstürm sarcastically.
Mallory shook his head. "Under C."
"C?" repeated the elf. "Who's that?"
"Colonel W. Carruthers."
"I never heard of him."
"He's the guy who killed the unicorn in the museum."
"So you still insist on educating yourself about unicorns?" complained Mürgenstürm. He pointed to Mallory's wristwatch. "It's eleven-eighteen and we're no closer than when we started. By the time you learn anything useful about unicorns, it will be sunrise!"
"The alternative is learning about the Grundy," replied Mallory, "and I already know more about him than I want to. Besides, maybe we can hire this Carruthers to help us." He looked up at Felina. "Are you coming along or not?"
In response, she stood up and prepared to jump off the window ledge.
"Don't!" shouted Mallory. "It's a twenty-foot drop!" She laughed and flung herself out into space. Mallory closed his eyes and turned his head away, waiting for the sound of a splat! as her body crashed onto the pavement. Instead, he soon became aware of a soft purring, and an instant later Felina was rubbing her back up and down against his hip.
"I'm hungry," she said.
"Don't you ever think of anything except your stomach?" asked Mallory.
"Eating makes more sense than chasing a unicorn through the rain on New Year's Eve," she replied.
The detective stared at her. "It was starting to seem pretty logical until you put it that way." He shook his head. "You know, every time I think I'm starting to understand this city, something like this happens." "Something like what?" asked the elf.
"Like the animals coming to life in the museum." He uttered a curse. "Damn, but I thought I had him there for a minute!"
"Him?"
"The Grundy. He was speaking to me through a gorilla, and I set him on fire. I should have known it wouldn't be that easy."
"You actually set the Grundy on fire?" repeated Mürgenstürm, wide-eyed.
Mallory shook his head. "I set the gorilla on fire." He paused. "I'll get him the next time."
"You don't know what you're saying, John Justin!" said the elf fearfully.
"He had hundreds of animals and dinosaurs at his disposal, and we got out in one piece. He stole a unicorn, but he left a witness behind. He tried to kill me, but he let me get close enough to set him on fire." Mallory paused thoughtfully. "He may be powerful, but he's not perfect."
Suddenly Felina hissed and dove into the grass. She stood up a moment later, covered with mud, proudly holding a small rodent in one hand.
"You're not going to eat it like that, are you?" asked Mallory.
"Of course not."
"Good," replied Mallory, relaxing.
"I'm going to play with it first," she said with a predatory grin.
"Not in front of me, you're not!" snapped Mallory.
"You mustn't judge her too harshly, John Justin," said the elf. "It's her nature, just as yours is solving mysteries."
"By the same token, it's the Grundy's nature to steal unicorns and kill oversexed elves. Why hold it against him?"
"Let's not carry this line of reasoning to ridiculous extremes," said Mürgenstürm haughtily.
Felina, who had been looking off into the distance, turned to Mallory.
"If you don't stop saying bad things about me, I won't tell you what I see."
Mallory peered into the darkness.
"I don't see anything."
"Of course not. You're only a Man."
"All right," said Mallory. "What do you see?"
"Are you sorry that you criticized me?" she replied with a cunning smile.
He stared at her for a moment. "All right—I'm sorry."
"And you'll never, ever do it again, no matter what?"
"I said I'm sorry. That's enough."
"But did you mean it?" she purred.
"I meant it!" yelled Mallory. "Now, what the hell do you see?"
"A unicorn."